


I Will Rewrite This, I Promise

by Anzieizna



Series: Short stories [8]
Category: Original Work, Warriors - Erin Hunter
Genre: 16 pages in word later, 5 hours to be exact, Anyways, Other, hi yes i spent too long on this, i will rewrite this, maybe 6 i can't math too well, sorry in advance, this is shit, this monstrosity was born
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-29
Updated: 2020-01-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:02:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22469827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anzieizna/pseuds/Anzieizna
Summary: Me messing around with my Warriors OCs and trying to create a comrehensible world. I will rewrite this because this one is horrible D:NOW REWRITTEN! CHECK OUT THE NEW AND IMPROVED STORY ON MY PAGE OR IN THE BEGINNING NOTES.
Series: Short stories [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1367440
Comments: 7
Kudos: 2





	I Will Rewrite This, I Promise

**Author's Note:**

> _NOW REWRITTEN: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22517221_
> 
> Clan Allegiance:
> 
> Leader \- **Poppystar** \-- a black and white she-cat with bright green eyes.
> 
> Deputy \- **Coppernose** \-- a dark brown tabby she-cat with green eyes.
> 
> Medicine cat \- **Lilyfall** \-- a solid silver-grey tabby she-cat with grey eyes.
> 
> Warriors -  
>  **Finchpelt** \-- a light tabby point tom with striking blue eyes.  
>  **Tinynight** \-- a solid black tom with bright yellow eyes.  
>  **Willowcloud** \-- a fluffy ragdoll she-cat with bright blue eyes. (Apprentice: **Yellowpaw** )  
>  **Flamepool** \-- a bright ginger tabby with green eyes.  
>  **Lionwing** \-- a cream and faint-tabby tom with yellow eyes.  
>  **Mousewind** \-- a black and white blind tom with cloudy green eyes. (Apprentice: **Driftpaw** )  
>  **Blackears** \-- a black and white tom with yellow eyes.  
>  **Brindlesky** \-- a calico she-cat with yellow eyes. (Apprentice: **Dustpaw** )
> 
> Apprentices -  
>  **Driftpaw** \-- a ragdoll she-cat with striking blue eyes.  
>  **Dustpaw** \-- a light brown tabby tom with green eyes.  
>  **Yellowpaw** \-- a bright tabby tom with blue eyes.
> 
> Queens -  
>  **Mottlefang** \-- a calico she-cat with yellow eyes. (Kits: **Birdkit, Springkit, Minnowkit** )
> 
> Elders -  
>  **Amberpath** \-- a white and ginger she-cat with yellow eyes.  
>  **Owlstripe** \-- a light brown tabby tom with green eyes.  
>  **Sootclaw** \-- a black and dark brown she-cat with green eyes.

The first time he’d ever seen the warriors’ den, Finchpelt had thought it was massive. He’d just been graduated from apprentice to warrior, his fur still buzzing with excitement, when a senior warrior showed him where he’d be sleeping after he completed his ritual.

Considering he’d just come from the apprentices’ den – small, cramped, and always smelling vaguely of tick bile –, the sight had taken his breath away. Large beds of moss that actually _looked_ comfortable, no holes in the wall where the sun would shine directly in his face, and cats that knew they had to be quiet once the sun set.

Now, a full-grown warrior, Finchpelt felt like the den had gotten ten times smaller.

Perhaps it was Finchpelt who’d grown, hit a growth spurt after leaving his post as an apprentice. Perhaps the cats around him became greedier with their space. Or, perhaps, it was the massive lump of dishevelled cream-coloured fur determined to take over his bed.

It was probably that.

Finchpelt yawned, blinking his eyes open slowly. From the corner of his eye, he could see Lionwing, the aforementioned bed stealer, slowly oozing from his own moss bed and into his own. It was a bad habit he’d formed millennia’s ago, one he couldn’t get rid of despite the number of complaints from literally _every_ cat in the den.

Well, almost every cat.

Finchpelt could lie to himself and say he didn’t complain because he was shy, but that wasn’t true. Yes, he was quiet, and would always take the chance to walk away from small talk if he could, but if he didn’t like something then he had no hesitance about speaking out about it. Especially if it was of the annoying variety. Especially if it was of the annoying _him_ variety.

So maybe he didn’t complain because he actually didn’t mind Lionwing squeezing himself so close, wrapping his fluffy body around Finchpelt’s and purring into his neck. Either way, the warriors were seemingly glad at the perceived escape and all but forced Lionwing to sleep in the corner, far away from everyone else, between the wall and Finchpelt.

For the rest of the moon, the other cats had very loudly commented on how it was nice to have a good sleep for once. Lionwing always just sniggered, then went back to yowling about the lack of fresh-kill and how apprentices were oh-so useless these days.

As Finchpelt watched, Lionwing’s nose twitched in his sleep. He made quiet snuffling noises, his ears twitching like they kept hearing things, and the longer Finchpelt watched the more exaggerated the movements got.

After a while, though, a yawn escaped his jaws, and the tom decided to start his day. He could see other cats in the den begin to get up, too, everyone taking their time and moving as slow as a snail. Technically, nobody had to be up until the deputy told them to go on patrol, but the whole clan was eager to catch some food whilst their prey was still half-asleep.

Finchpelt shook his fur, glancing at the dozing Lionwing once more, before he padded his way into the outside. The scene there was the same, with different cats seeping their way out of dens like it would kill them to go any faster, occasionally stopping by to chat to one another.

Luckily for Finchpelt – and the other cats, to be honest; Finchpelt was never the best conversationalist straight after waking up – nobody paused in their way to bother him, and he sat silently, soaking up the sun, until a sleek, black body made its way into camp.

Finchpelt watched as the cat padded closer with a mouse in his mouth, taking care as he put it down on the fresh-kill pile. The cat then looked around lazily, his ears perking up when he saw Finchpelt, and made his way over.

“Early start, Tinynight?” Finchpelt asked.

The tom’s whiskers twitched in agreement, and he sat next to him. They brushed each other’s coats, taking their time to wake up, as Tinynight told him about the hunt this morning.

“The rain must have brought them out,” he said. “I would have caught a blackbird, too, if I hadn’t stepped on a branch.”

Finchpelt winced in sympathy. “That’s good, then, considering that we’re getting a new apprentice today.”

At the mention, Tinynight paused. His eyes flickered up and towards the nursery, before falling back to his paw and drawing his tongue over it. In the nursery, undoubtedly, was Yellowkit, the clan’s eldest kit, bouncing around the den with the excitement of an entire patrol. Yellowkit was finally six moons old today, and thus old enough to become an apprentice. The leader never told anyone but the deputy who the apprentice’s mentor would be, but gossip travelled fast around the camp, and Finchpelt knew what it was saying.

Tinynight had longed to be a mentor for _forever_. The two had been apprentices together, and he remembered his friend bragging about how when _he_ was a mentor he wouldn’t dish out so many useless and unpleasant chores. Clan gossip whispered Tinynight’s name, sharing how he was the obvious chose for an apprentice, how his quiet nature would contrast with Yellowkit’s constant excitability, how Tinynight would be a great mentor.

Tinynight, obviously, heard this as well, but he wasn’t as confident.

“Hey,” Finchpelt said, nudging the tom’s chin until he looked at him. “Poppystar’s a fool if she doesn’t pick you to be a mentor, you know that right? You’re one of the best hunters in the _clan_. You deserve it.”

Tinynight’s face pinched for a moment, and his fur radiated heat. He looked down, blinking rapidly. “You really think so?”

“Yep. No doubt about it. And even if she doesn’t, you _know_ she’s going to regret it!”

The cat snorted, rolling his eyes. “Okay, now you’re taking it too far.”

“I will _not_. Watch, Yellowkit is going to be fawning all over you the whole ceremony.”

“Finchpelt, if you don’t quiet down, you’re going to wake the whole camp.”

“They’ll be on my side!”

“Who’s on your side?”

Finchpelt jumped, flinching at the new voice that sounded from behind him. He calmed when he recognised it, though, turning around to glare at Lionwing as he pushed his way out of the den entrance.

“How come you’re so silent sneaking behind me, but snore really loudly when you sleep?”

Lionwing shrugged. “It’s a gift,” he said, settling down next to him. “What are we talking about?”

“Yellowkit’s mentor. Hey,” Finchpelt said, his face lighting up, and could see Tinynight gearing up for whatever embarrassment was coming up, which was _rude_ , “your sister’s the deputy, why don’t you share the mentor with us?”

Tinynight groaned, and Lionwing’s whiskers twitched in amusement. “You know I can’t do that, right? Even if I did know?”

“Of course you can! I’m sure Coppernose will understand.”

“I’m not so sure she will,” Tinynight sighed, and nudged Finchpelt’s shoulder. “Leave it alone, will you? No need to get so excited over nothing.”

Any other day, he would fought it, but Finchpelt could see that this was really, truly bothering Tinynight. And so he hummed, leaning forward to press his nose behind Tinynight’s ear. When he leaned back, he found Lionwing ever-so closer, their shoulders brushing, and ignored his friend’s pointed look.

They sat for a while, murmuring occasionally but mostly sitting in silence as the rest of the camp woke up. Eventually the deputy stepped out of the den, stretching before tapping Lionwing’s nose with her own for a greeting.

“Alright,” Coppernose said around a yawn, “let’s get these patrols started.”

Tinynight, having already caught for the clan, was allowed to stay behind and help with den repairs and waking other cats. Finchpelt and Lionwing were sent on a border patrol with a relatively fresh warrior, Willowcloud, who was kind and polite enough that Finchpelt didn’t feel too nervous going on patrol with.

And even if he did, Lionwing talked enough for the both of them.

“So, are you excited to see Yellowkit become an apprentice?”

The ragdoll looked up shyly, her blue eyes widening when she realised Lionwing was walking to her. “Oh – me? Uh, yeah! I mean, the only other apprentice I’ve seen graduate was my own sister, so I think this’ll be a different experience. I think last time I was kind of focusing on Driftpaw too much to actually pay attention to the ceremony, which is a little bit embarrassing, and I’m not sure why I told you just told you that because that does _not_ make me look like a mature warrior.”

Lionwing blinked, visibly processing the words for a few more seconds, before he chuckled kindly. “Ceremonies _are_ pretty exciting, right Finchpelt?”

Finchpelt, who’d been distracted sniffing the air, came back to the conversation with wide eyes and already half-panicking. “…what?”

Seemingly sensing his unease, Lionwing fell back until he could press their coats together. He purred quietly, slowing down his walk as he repeated, “I was just telling Willowcloud how ceremonies are always exciting, no matter your age. Right?”

“Oh. Well, yeah, I think so. I’ve been a warrior for a while now and I’m still excited.”

Willowcloud smiled, relieved. “Really? That’s good to hear! All the other warriors are always so calm and collected all the time, and I get flustered when I’m excited about some good prey.”

“Hey, nothing wrong with that,” Lionwing said. “Trust me, warriors are _not_ as cool as they seem. A few days ago, I saw Flamepool get scared by his own tail. He promised me not to tell anyone, threatened to put bile in my next meal, but he doesn’t intimidate me.”

“Sure he doesn’t,” Finchpelt teased, swiping at his whiskers lightly. Lionwing recoiled, sending him a dirty look, but Finchpelt just smirked. “And yet in your dream, I’m pretty sure I heard you telling Flamepool to get away from your squirrel.”

“His sister is the _medicine cat_ ,” Lionwing hissed, “he has access to _death berries!_ ”

“No, he doesn’t.”

“If I mysteriously die, I’m blaming you.”

“How would this be my fault?”

“Blatant ignorance, that’s how!”

Finchpelt just rolled his eyes. He was about to bite back another time when he heard a tiny, muffled snigger, and snapped his head to the side to see Willowcloud trying to stifle her laughter.

“Sorry,” she said, hunching her shoulders even as she grinned, “it’s just – I – _wow_ , the stories about you are _not_ exaggerated.”

Lionwing frowned. “Stories? What stories?”

Willowcloud opened her mouth, then closed it again. “Ah, nevermind. Just camp gossip, that’s all. Anyways, to the patrol, yes?” she asked, and then skipped away with a quiet ‘ _oh dear StarClan why did you just say that?’_ under her breath.

Finchpelt and Lionwing exchanged an amused glance. “She’s nice,” Finchpelt conceited.

“Haven’t hung out with her a lot?”

Finchpelt just looked himself up and down, as if saying ‘ _obviously’_.

“That’s fair. You should, she’s shy, like you.”

The tom ignored his scowl, instead using his tail to stir Finchpelt towards where Willowcloud had left. They caught up to her soon enough, patrolling the camp’s west and south borders before making their way back. Willowcloud managed to catch a vole on the way, her chest puffing with pride when he returned to camp and another warrior congratulated her on the catch.

Lionwing left to talk to Coppernose about something, and Finchpelt was joined by Tinynight shortly, the two grooming each other once more as they chatted.

A yowl from across camp caught their attention. They looked up, both laughing when they saw the scene.

It was Yellowkit, the kitten’s fluffy ginger coat all ruffled and soaked as his mother trapped him in her paws. He was clearly sulking, huffing loudly and complaining non-stop, frowning so hard you could barely see the tabby’s blue eyes as he cursed under his breath.

His mother was unimpressed. Sootclaw continued to groom him, telling him to stay still, and Finchpelt could hear the black she-cat voice her regret on passing down her large coat to her son, wondering why he couldn’t have gotten Owlstripe’s short pelt instead. Behind them, Owlstripe, Yellowkit’s father, just shook his whiskers and told her to keep him out of it.

Sootclaw had been brought out of retirement when she’d been pregnant with Yellowkit. The pair had retired to the elders’ den fairly early after a clan battle had left them worse for wear, citing the clan had more than enough warriors left without them. Poppystar had let them, saying they’d done so much for their clan that they deserved the rest, though some cats said she just didn’t want her mother, the then sole elder in the camp, to be lonely anymore.

Finchpelt imagined Sootlcaw would be glad to return to the den now. He didn’t doubt she loved her son, but kits could be _loud,_ and if he was ever a father, he’d want them to grow up as soon as they could so he wouldn’t have to deal with the noise so much. Or the clinginess, or the chewing, or the multitudes of other not-so-pleasant things Finchpelt remembered seeing whenever he visited the nursery.

“Can you imagine that you might be mentoring that _today_?” Finchpelt asked, grinning. “You might go deaf with all the yelling he’s doing!”

Tinynight sent him a mock glare. “You’re quite rude, today.”

“Only because you’re being pessimistic.” Tinynight opened his mouth again, but before he could Finchpelt said, “okay, okay, I know, I know. I won’t say anything else. But just know, if you’re _not_ his mentor that I’ll be severely confused.”

“Confused is better than willing to murder our leader,” Tinynight quipped. “And I’m not as desperate as everyone’s making it out to be. If it’s not me, that’s fine. I trust Poppystar’s judgement. I know she will have chosen someone else for a reason. She’s a fair leader – she’ll pick me when my time comes.”

Finchpelt watched for a minute, trying to discern if he was telling the truth or not, and eventually nodded. “Fine. If you say so. But I still think you deserve it.”

Tinynight smiled quietly. “Thank you, Finchpelt.” They ate a bit more, and then the black cat stood up, stretching wide as he did so. “I’m going to visit Mottlefang in the nursery. Want to come?”

Finchpelt shrugged, finishing off the kill he’d grabbed from the pile. “I don’t have anything else to do. Let’s go see your sister,” he said, and they set off towards the nursery.

They walked past Yellowkit, nodding to the elders as they padded by. Finchpelt could have sworn he heard the kit ask if that was really _them,_ if that was Tinynight who’d once caught two pheasants all on his own, if Finchpelt had _really_ warned the leader when he smelt Twolegs at the border and possibly saved their lives!

His enthusiasm made Finchpelt smile, and he puffed his chest. The stories were a bit exaggerated – Tinynight only caught _one_ pheasant, and the Twolegs hadn’t actually been a real danger to the camp, but nonetheless it still made his walk into the nursery ever-so lighter.

The nursery – it’s dim light, it’s sweet scent – instantly brought back memories. Finchpelt recalled the vague smell of warm milk, a purr that always comforted him, the name ‘ _Finchkit’_ said fondly after he caught some kind mishap. The memory was bittersweet, a peaceful time before his mother died and he was taken in by another queen, one who wasn’t as kind and who was only polite, not _loving_.

For one moment, Finchpelt imagined his life if his parents were alive – if his father hadn’t died before he was born, if sickness hadn’t taken his mother. Would he be as close as Sootclaw and Owlfur were to Yellowkit? Would he have siblings to play with, or be a lone kit as he was now?

Then a mew sounded from further inside, and Finchpelt was reminded of where he was.

A nursery, visiting Tinynight’s sister, Mottlefang, with her three adorable kits.

A family if he’d ever known one.

Finchpelt looked away from the walls and towards the only occupied moss bed. Mottlefang lay there, the calico’s eyes drooping heavy with sleepiness. Her colourful coat would have been beautiful if not for the way her skin clung to her bones, making the cut of her skull sharp, her paws bony.

They weren’t sure what it was. Maybe a disease, or a side-effect of the rough pregnancy, but Mottlefang wasn’t eating enough. She was far too skinny, far too tired all the time, and the medicine cat was working hard to figure out what was wrong with her.

But just because Mottlefang was weak didn’t mean her personality was dulled. Oh, definitely not.

As soon as the she-cat saw them enter, she sighed loud and long. “Oh, great, more tom cats. What did I do to deserve StarClan’s torture?”

Finchpelt spluttered. “Wha – what have _we_ done?”

Mottlefang just laughed. “Don’t get your tail in a twist, Finchy. I’m just tired of the male species today. Come on, boys, why don’t you tell your uncles what you did today?”

She turned her eye towards the corner of the den, and Finchpelt was half-embarrassed that he hadn’t noticed the kittens yet. The kits paused half-way through rough-housing, blinking from their mother to the toms. Then, they apparently realised who was visit them, and tumbled forward.

“Tinynight, Finchpelt!” Birdkit cried as she leapt on top of her brothers, grinning wildly. “Mottlefang just told off Minnowkit and Springkit _sooooo_ bad!” The black she-kit ignored the protesting under her, keeping her balance as she spoke. “It was really funny, they deserved it, too!”

“We did _not_!” An indignant voice called out, and a ginger head poked out from between Birdkit’s legs. Springkit pushed up, snickering when Birdkit fell on her side. “Mottlefang was being so unfair. Besides, it was Minnowkit’s fault!”

“No it wasn’t! Stop blaming me!” Minnowkit, his grey fur spiked with annoyance, yowled as he swung a paw at this brother. “Tinynight, he keeps blaming me and it’s annoying.”

Tinynight just blinked, clearly overwhelmed. He glanced to Mottlefang, who was pretending to be asleep, before looking to Finchpelt. The tom took a large step back. Tinynight sighed, sending Finchpelt a betrayed look as he turned back to his nephews and niece.

“What did Springkit do, then?”

“Oh! Oh! Oh!” Birdkit jumped forward once more. “I’ll tell it, I always tell stories best. _So, basically,_ what happened was—”

“Hurry up, will you!”

“Be quiet!” Birdkit hissed, turning back to glare at her brothers. They both shrugged, their tails bouncing impatiently, and Birdkit frowned. “If you hadn’t talked, I’d have been _done_ by now. Anyway. So. What happened was—” the she-kit glared, daring them to interrupt, but they were either done with their games or too scared now, “—one of the apprentices came over to drop off food for Mottlefang, and when she decided she was finished with it, _these two idiots_ —”

“ _Don’t call your brothers idiots_ ,” Mottlefang said sleepily.

“—Right, sorry. So basically, these two idiots thought it’d be a great idea to play with the left-overs, except they played _too hard_ and ended up throwing it into Mottlefang’s face!”

“It was pretty bad,” Minnowkit said, his shoulders hunched. “Mottlefang made us clean up the den.”

Springkit nodded, and then added, “and it was _not_ my fault.”

“Oh great StarClan, not this again!”

“Oh, butt out of this, Birdkit, it’s between me and Minnowkit!”

“Minnowkit, bite him!”

“I don’t hate him _that_ much!”

“Well I do!”

The three started playing again, pushing Finchpelt and Tinynight to the corner of the den. Finchpelt was about to suggest they leave – so that Mottlefang could have some space to breathe, _not_ because he was scared of getting attacked by one of the kits – when a blur of grey entered the nursery.

The kits quickly stopped, obedient in the presence of one of the clan’s most authoritative figures and returned to their mother’s side. Clearly, however, having a cat with great authority wasn’t enough to quiet them down, because Springkit said, “hi, Lilyfall, you’re back soon!”

The medicine cat looked up from the ground, where she’d get a series of leaves down, to smile kindly at the kits. “Morning, you guys.” She looked around, blinking respectfully at the warriors. “And you too, Tinynight and Finchpelt. Visiting Mottlefang?”

“They wouldn’t leave,” Mottlefang mumbled, still half-asleep.

Finchpelt frowned. “You didn’t _tell_ us to leave.” He turned to Tinynight. “Did she?”

“No, she didn’t,” Tinynight said with a raised brow. “But I do think it was implied.”

“Maybe it’s good you’re here,” Lilyfall said, grabbing one of the leaves and tearing it in half. “You can help me convince Mottlefang to eat her medicine.”

The calico sighed explosively. “Oh, for the love of – I’m _fine_!”

“You’re most certainly not fine,” Lilyfall grumbled, hushing the kits away with kind paws. “And if I let you starve yourself life this, I would be the worst medicine cat in clan history.”

“At least it’d be quieter,” Mottlefang said.

From the corner of his eye, Finchpelt saw Tinynight frown. He shuffled closer to the tom, pressing their shoulders together, trying to offer sympathy silently. Tinynight sent him a quick smile, but he could tell it wasn’t genuine.

“You haven’t been eating your medicine?”

Mottlefang opened one eye, groaning when she did. “Don’t give me that look. I’ve gotten enough from Lilyfall here, I don’t need you on my tail now, too.”

Tinynight scowled. “I can’t be worried that you won’t _eat_ anything?”

“Oh, bite me,” Mottlefang hissed.

Suddenly, Lilyfall stepped between the two. She gave them both a hard look, narrowing her eyes as she stared. Eventually, she said, “Finchpelt, perhaps you could take the kits outside, hmm? A bit too crowded in here.”

Finchpelt blinked, taking a minute to process that the she-cat had said _his_ name. He looked down to see that – yeah, the kits were looking scared. Their ears were down, their bodies pressed close together and to the ground as they looked directly from their mother to their uncle.

Finchpelt swallowed, a stone sinking to his stomach. He nodded. “Oh, yes – uh, sure. Yeah, I can do that.” He hesitated before moving around Tinynight, who hadn’t broken eye-contact with Mottlefang, gathering the kits up and herding them outside.

He glanced over his shoulder and saw Lilyfall take in a deep breath. Yeah, he didn’t want to hang around for that – a fight was _clearly_ about to break out, and Finchpelt was more than glad to take an escape when presented with one.

Finchpelt settled just outside the nursery, corralling the kittens to make sure they weren’t wandering under other cat’s steps.

Clearly, they were still shaken up, because instead of walking off like they would usually, the three stayed by his side, quiet and small, glancing back to the nursery every few seconds.

“Hey,” he said, and their heads quickly snapped to him. “Your mother’s going to be fine. Trust me – Mottlefang’s one of the strongest cats I know, okay? If there’s anyone who would defeat whatever this is, it’d be Mottlefang.”

Birdkit blinked, then crawled over closer. “Do they always fight like that?”

Finchpelt huffed lightly. “Unfortunately. It’s how they show their love, so don’t worry too much if they start yelling again, yeah? They’ll be back together in no time.”

This seemed to calm her down, and Birdkit placed her chin on her paws and huffed. Behind her, her brothers exchanged a look, and then stood to walk over to Birdkit. They threw themselves on top, ignoring her muffled protests, and cuddled around each other. After a few moments Birdkit stopped moving, sighing loudly, and instead embraced her siblings.

Finchpelt watched them with a smile.

A body threw itself down beside him, and Finchpelt looked to the side, rolling his eyes when he discovered it was Lionwing.

“Where’d you go? I was looking for you.”

“Tinynight and I visited his sister,” he said, pointing his head to the kits. Lionwing looked back him, huffing in disappointment when he found the kits were asleep. “I know, how terrible – you can’t _annoy_ them now.”

“I’ll have you know, kits _love_ me.”

They did. Finchpelt didn’t know why, but they did, and it was always so adorable to see the massive cloud of fluff that was Lionwing roll around with kits _or_ apprentices.

“Coppernose has us on evening patrol,” Lionwing told him. “We’ll be with Blackears, so let all that fear out now.”

Finchpelt scowled, shoving him, but he wasn’t wrong. Blackears was the leader’s brother, sharing her black and white coat, and a senior warrior. Finchpelt _may_ have been a bit intimidated by him, okay, it wasn’t a big deal. For a moment, he wished for Willowcloud back. She was at least nice. Once, Finchpelt had bumped into Blackears – he apologised, and the warrior just stared at him for a few seconds before he walked away. Blackears was _scary_ , okay? Leave him alone.

“Leave me alone.”

Lionwing huffed. “You’re touchy today. What’s with you?”

“Tinynight said the same thing. Both of you are terrible friends.”

“Rude.”

“ _Terrible_.”

“Still rude.”

Finchpelt rolled his eyes, grinning. “Be quiet will you?”

Lionwing shrugged, but closed his eyes and lay his head down. On Finchpelt’s shoulders. And nuzzled him. In his sleep. Because he was, apparently, now sleeping on Finchpelt’s shoulder.

That just so happened to be the moment Tinynight walked out of the den. Finchpelt ignored _that_ look, too.

Behind Tinynight, Lilyfall exited the nursery. She turned to make her way towards the medicine cat’s den, then hesitated, before turning around and walking up to Yelllowkit. The kitten appeared to still be trapped by his mother’s paws, but when he saw his big sister coming towards him he redoubled his efforts and broke out.

Lilyfall touched Yellowkit’s nose, smiling brightly at the kit. They walked back to his parents, Yellowkit opening his mouth to complain about the rough treatment from Sootclaw’s grooming. Finchpelt couldn’t hear it well, but it didn’t matter – the image of a tight-knit family was clear, especially when Lilyfall’s littermate, Flamepool, joined them, his coat an exact replica of Yellowkit’s but bigger and fluffier.

Finchpelt pushed the thought of nostalgia away, instead cuddling closer to Lionwing and turning to Tinynight.

“Meeting’s starting soon,” the tom said. “Lilyfall said she’s going to tell Poppystar everyone’s up by now.”

“Oh,” Finchpelt said, and if Lionwing wasn’t on his shoulder he’d move to comfort Tinynight. “You excited? Nervous? Scared?”

Tinynight’s face pinched. “I _will_ be if you keep saying that.”

“Right, got it, no mention of anything negative.” Finchpelt nodded. “Now that you’re not nervous or anything, could you get this lump off me?” he asked, gently poking a nose at Lionwing.

Tinynight smiled. “You don’t look like you’re complaining.”

“He is _very_ heavy.”

“You guys seemed pretty cosy this morning.”

Finchpelt blushed. “Watching cats as they sleep is creepy, Tinynight.”

The black cat shrugged. “He was talking in his sleep again. Everyone was staring at him.”

Finchpelt’s fur burned, but before he could say anything else Poppystar stepped up onto the rock that housed her den. The clan’s buzzing grew, everyone gathering in the centre and staring at their leader, already whispering amongst themselves. Tinynight straightened, tall and stiff, and helped Finchpelt wake up the giant slumbering on his shoulder.

Lionwing was grumpy when he awoke, but too eager about the ceremony to go back to sleep. Tinynight told the kits to go back to the nursery, promising they could watch from the den, and warriors walked forward to join the circle of clan cats.

“Let everyone who is old enough to catch their own gather for a clan meeting,” Poppystar’s powerful voice rung throughout the clearing, and the few remaining stragglers were quick to pad over to the rock.

Coppernose and Lilyfall padded over to sit under the rock, leaving space in the middle for the apprentice and their mentor. The clan hushed as Poppystar looked down, searching amongst the faces until she saw Yellowkit. She smiled.

“Yellowkit,” Poppystar said, nodding slowly. “Step forward.”

Yellowkit, beside himself, stepped away from the crowd and into the space. For one second, it looked like Sootclaw would call him back, clearly nervous about a stray hair or a not-sharp-enough claw, but Yellowkit was already looking up at Poppysyar. He was trembling just a little, his tail whizzing from side to side as he waited for his leader’s words.

“Yellowkit, you have reached the age of six moons, and it is time for you to be apprenticed. Is it your wish to serve your clan with all of your strength?”

Yellowkit nodded hard. “Yes. It is.”

Poppystar smiled. “Then, from this day on, until you receive your warrior name, you will be known as _Yellowpaw_.”

The clan began to whisper again, and beside him, Tinynight stiffened. Finchpelt knew what was coming next – it was going to be the announcement of the mentor. He pressed their pelts together, trying to radiate comfort as much as he could, and felt Tinynight breathing roughly against his ear.

Poppystar looked away from Yellowpaw, surveying the clan. For one moment, her gaze stopped on Tinynight, and the black tom stopped breathing. Then, after a long blink, Poppystar looked away. Tinynight let out a breath. Finchpelt blinked. He could hear murmurs from his clanmates, wondering who was going to be chosen, and Lionwing let out a sympathetic sound as he ran his tail along Tinynight’s spine.

Finchpelt was so caught up in staring at his friend that he didn’t realise which cat was chosen until the whispers started up again. He looked up, narrowing his eyes as he tried to find who it was, and blinked in surprise when he saw Willowcloud stepping into the space.

Willowcloud, herself, looked terrified. Her eyes were wide, and her claws were digging into the dirt beneath her. She locked eyes with Yellowpaw, and the two seemed to share some unspeakable communication.

“Willowcloud,” Poppystar said, and the clan went silent once more. “You may not have been expecting this, but I am confident I have made the right decision. Willowcloud, you have received excellent training from Amberpath, and have shown yourself to be clear-headed and loyal to your clan. These qualities are vital in an apprentice and I expect you to pass on all you know to Yellowpaw.”

She stepped back, nodding to the two cats to touch noses. Yellowpaw and Willowcloud turned to each other, hesitating before leaning forward to do so. As soon as they did, the clan began to roar.

“Yellowpaw! Yellowpaw! Yellowpaw!”

The newly-made apprentice bounced in place, his smile big and almost falling off his face. The clan’s two apprentices jumped forward, all but crashing into him as they cheered at getting a new den-mate. Sootclaw had to be held back from chasing them off, but Owlstripe was only able to hold for so long before she broke away and ran to her kitten. Despite having protested, Owlstripe was right behind her.

The rest of the clan, meanwhile, was gathering around Willowcloud. Both friends and senior warriors clustered around her, yelling congratulations over each other.

When Lionwing moved to join the crowd, Finchpelt looked to Tinynight. The cat’s face was deep in thought, clearly trapped in his own mind, and he had to be nudged three times before he looked back up. “Hmmm?”

“I said are you okay?”

Tinynight blinked. “Oh. No, I’m okay. I _am_ ,” he insisted when Finchpelt looked doubtful. “I’ll admit, I’m a little disappointed, but as I said, I trust Poppystar. Yellowkit— _paw_ ,” he corrected himself, sighing, “does seem like he’d need a cat friendlier than me. And I’m sure Willowcloud will do well. She seems capable.”

Finchpelt hummed. “I went on patrol with her today. She’s nice, that’s true at least.”

Tinynight nodded. He opened his mouth, but said nothing. His eyes were caught on something over Finchpelt’s shoulder, and the tom frowned before following his gaze, blinking in surprise when he realised Poppystar was beckoning Tinynight over.

The two shared a glance, wary, but Tinynight told him that he’d be back and to congratulate Willowcloud. He watched for a few more seconds, but Poppystar didn’t look angry or upset, so he eventually turned around.

The crowd around Willowcloud had thinned out, but there were still lots of cats around her. He joined the mass, recognising the two cats currently speaking to the ragdoll as the two mentors of the current apprentices.

“So if you need any help, don’t hesitate to come to us,” Brindlesky said. “StarClan knows even _I_ still struggle with Dustpaw and his energy.”

Beside her, a black and white tom nodded. “Driftpaw is a great cat, don’t get me wrong, but all apprentices have bad days. Don’t be worried if it feels like too much.”

“Thanks, Mousewind,” Willowcloud said, flushing lightly. “I know you’ve been helping Driftpaw a lot – she tells me everyday what a great mentor you are. I just hope I can live up to that.”

“Nonsense, you’ll be fine,” Brindlesky said. “Mousewind was as nervous as you when he got an apprentice. I was, too.”

“You guy just… seem like you know it all.” Willowcloud sighed. “I don’t even know what I’m supposed to do now!”

“Well,” Brindlesky said, humming in thought. “When Yellowpaw is done exploring the apprentice’s den, you should take him on tour of the territory.”

Mousewind nodded. “He’ll appreciate that, having never stepped outside camp before. You can also practise scenting with him. Scenting is important.”

Willowcloud nodded, then seemed to realise all the cats around her. “Oh!” she cried, and then hunched her shoulders. “Sorry. I got a little carried away talking to Brindlesky and Mousewind.”

“That’s actually probably a good idea,” Blackears said, having somehow sneaked to the front of the crowd without Finchpelt noticing. “They can give you some good advice. The rest of us were just hoarding congratulations.”

The cats laughed collectively, waving off any and all apologies from Willowcloud. The crowd started to dissipate, everyone saying rushed greetings before moving on.

“Congrats,” Finchpelt said when it was his turn. “I think Yellowpaw’s going to love you.”

“Thanks! Hey, uh,” Willowcloud glanced to the side. “Your friend isn’t mad, is he? Everyone was saying that Tinynight was going to mentor Yellowpaw, not me.”

“Actually, he isn’t,” Finchpelt said, trying not to sound surprised, even if he was. “He was totally understanding. I’m sure he’ll come around to congratulate you soon enough.”

Willowcloud let out a breath, relieved. “That’s good. Thank you, again.”

Finchpelt nodded, and rushed away, because he did _not_ like crowds.

He found Lionwing settled near the warriors’ den, bathing in the sun, and lay next to him.

“ _Phew_. That took a lot of energy out of me.”

Lionwing smirked, his eyes still closed. “What, talking to a clanmate?”

“Yes. Shut up.”

The tom rolled his eyes but shuffled so his head was leaning against Finchpelt’s belly, settling back into sleep. The peace lasted for a little while, the rest of the clan still buzzed from the ceremony but going about their own business, and Finchpelt heard Willowcloud and Yellowpaw leave the den a few minutes ago.

Then, a shadow fell over him. Next to Finchpelt, Lionwing scrunched his nose, ducking his head further into the warmth that was Finchpelt, which was absolutely _adorable_ , but Finchpelt was too busy staring at Tinynight to pay him much attention.

“So? What did Poppystar say?”

Tinynight looked a lot relaxed than he had before, and he threw himself down beside his friend with an ease that spoke of no worries.

“Well?” Finchpelt asked when he received no answers.

Tinynight sighed, laying his chin on his paws. “Poppystar explain why she didn’t choose me to mentor Yellowpaw.”

“And? Why was that?”

Tinynight looked up. He smiled. “She said she’s saving me for someone else.”

Finchpelt frowned. “Who?”

“Minnowkit.”

“Minnowkit? Why?”

The tom lifted his head, thinking about his words. He said, “she’s noticed how shy he is, I think. She said that she’s afraid if she chooses a mentor he’s not familiar with, he won’t reach his full potential because he’ll be too timid. But Poppystar said she thinks our personalities go well together, and that I’ll be able to help him. She just wanted ensure I wouldn’t favour him or let him get away with things like not doing his duties.”

“Ha!” Finchpelt laughed. “Like you’d let _anyone_ get away with laziness.”

“That’s true,” Tinynight hummed. Then he smirked. “Lionwing looks pretty comfortable, huh?”

“Oh, bite me!”


End file.
